Is to be of Desperation

Is to be one of

Over the longing
of something
of sentimental Value

To hold it tightly
till near crushing

Longing even more so
for the
cradled warmth of
a held tight fear

Unleashed through mouth
Words now sought for

Wrought in the mind
of the despaired anger

Fought till the grasp
of a hand
cut deep, bone shown white

With the sharp love
dripping cold, pooled
under heel

pursed tightly the soft
essence of touch
between tongue and teeth

recedes back into the
folds of reality

Desimated is the conscious
of the dreams washed

Fades to black
photo perfection sharp focus
Lost realms in solitude untold